


Stroke

by dolores



Category: Six Feet Under
Genre: Body Hair, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-16
Updated: 2011-07-16
Packaged: 2017-10-21 11:05:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dolores/pseuds/dolores
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rico is distracted by a part of Nate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stroke

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted November 2002. My answer to Jen's "crazy fic" challenge and a pairing I'd like to see more of. As for the plot, well, I figure everyone is a little obsessed with Nate's chest. Thanks to Kate and Megs for beta assistance.

Nate's chest was like a cat. You just really wanted to stroke it.

Rico had always wondered just how hairy it was: for the longest time he only ever saw the little area exposed by the open collar of his shirt, where chest hair climbed over the material like ivy over a wall. Nate looked too blond to be so much like a gorilla but the little patch suggested a density beyond anything Rico had seen on a living person.

Of course, Rico had seen dead people that beat Nate for sure; in fact the current dead guy probably did. He was coated in black curls from head to foot, like he'd been dipped in a bucket of pubic hair before being dumped, limp onto his basement slab. Nate was in the basement too, looming over the corpse as he watched Rico work, trying to understand the processes, trying to learn his new trade.

If Rico looked just in the right direction he could see a little further down the open-collared shirt, and though he tried to concentrate on his task, curiosity kept getting the better of him. Which was why Nate's chest was occupying his thoughts.

Rico's frequent glances up made him careless, and a squelching sound signalled the eruption of embalming fluid. The pungent liquid splashed across Nate's shirt, and Nate recoiled. "Jesus man, I'm sorry," Rico said, grabbing some paper towels from the dispenser. The silence of the basement seemed crushing.

Nate was sanguine. "Don't worry, shit happens." He unfastened a button and then hauled the garment over his head, and stood semi-naked in front of Rico.

Rico stared; he simply couldn't help it. The hair was thick on the pectoral muscles, but merely a dusting on the stomach, except where it formed a trail from Nate's navel south. Nate's skin was surprisingly pale, and it made the hair look all the more dark and dense.

Nate caught Rico staring and looked down at himself. "What? Is something wrong? Is some of that stuff still on me?"

Rico blinked and dragged his gaze up to Nate's face, not quite making eye contact. "No, sorry man. I just? you're? you're so hairy."

Nate flushed a little, presumably slightly embarrassed. "Yeah. Dunno where it came from, Dad wasn't so bad." He lifted one hand to rub his torso. "Chicks seem to like it though."

Rico's stare had dipped again. "I guess you're pretty smooth, huh?" Nate said, in a tone that suggested he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"Yeah," Rico said, absently, gaze still fixed on the chest.

Nate flexed a little, the muscles tensing under the skin. "I guess... you can touch it. Uh, if you want." He looked at Rico's hands. "But wash them first."

Rico nodded a little before he could stop himself, and felt suddenly very uncomfortable as he his dick thickened at the thought. His libido battled his better judgement and won, and he moved awkwardly over to the sink, pulling off his latex gloves and the plastic apron before scrubbing his hands under warm water. Nate stood over to the side still clutching his soiled shirt, avoiding Rico's eyes.

Once he'd dried off, Rico moved over to Nate. His hands were shaking a little as he reached out to Nate's body. He wondered how different a warm, breathing hairy chest would feel as opposed to the rubbery, cold, dead skin that was his only previous experience. When his fingertips made contact he exhaled, unaware he'd even been holding his breath. Nate's body stiffened slightly at the touch, but he didn't pull away.

The chest expanded and contracted under his touch, feeling hotter than he had expected. He dragged both hands through the thatch, marvelling at how the springy hair coiled around his fingers. Rose pink nipples stiffened, from cold or arousal or both Rico couldn't tell.

It faintly occurred to Rico that he should maybe be a little grossed out that he was doing this with a dead guy in the room, but he guessed the dead guy wouldn't care too much; he probably had other things to worry about. He considered Vanessa briefly, but told himself this wasn't adultery. It was just damn weird.

The silence of the basement faded as Rico's senses seemed to heighten. He could hear the freezer buzz and the water gurgling in the pipes, and Nate's steady breathing now so very close.

When after a few moments Nate's thick arms coiled around him and he felt his own t-shirt being lifted from his body, Rico raised his own arms without protest and the garment slid up and off. Nate cast it to the floor, where it joined the shirt. Rico then carried on stroking the fur in front of him as Nate's rough palms began to rub the bare skin of his back in wide circular motions. The motion pushed Rico ever closer to his boss, and his face hovered a few scant inches from where his fingertips traced random patterns.

He dipped his head down and burrowed into the hair, pressing his own body to Nate's and rubbing his nose and lips into the groove that split Nate's chest in two. He smelled of soap and perspiration, he was warm and comforting and Rico sighed in happiness. Above and around him Nate groaned in pleasure and held Rico tight.

As close to his chest as Nate's as he was, to Rico it sounded like a purr.


End file.
